April

Grissom and Sara's friendship began to feel a bit more comfortable. He checked in with her more, sought her out on cases more, and when they were alone, it was no longer fraught with tension and hesitation. They'd even met up on a mutual day off recently to go to a new exhibit at the art museum. Grissom was surprised at how easy it was to spend time together once he allowed himself to do so.

By April, Grissom and Sara's friendship felt more like it had when she'd first moved to Vegas. Something they both relished now. And their working relationship benefited from the change. Speaking in riddles together, working scenes with short hands, getting back to doing what they both loved, solving puzzles.

One night, Grissom and Sara responded to a 419 at a state psychiatric center. As the investigation went on Grissom sensed some tension within Sara but he thought better than to bring it to her attention. He had learned quickly from their time together that she would only open up when she was ready and on her own terms. No sooner. And honestly, he was sure she could say the same of him.

"I'm going to get someone to open these drawers." Grissom said as he tried for a third time to open the file cabinets in the nurses station. She nodded and she continued to collect evidence, rummaging through the items in plain sight on the desk.

Grissom walked down the hallway in search of the keys he needed. And once he was completely out of sight, Adam Trent, a prime suspect and ward patient, entered the nurses station. He closed and locked the door behind him. Sara straightened up. She could feel someone's presence in the room, and she knew it wasn't Grissom. She turned around to see him standing there, eyeing her.

"Are you a spiritual person?" Adam asked as he finished locking her door.

Sara's heart began to beat faster. She scanned her peripheral for a guard or a nurse to help. But no one was around. "Sometimes." She answered slowly. Trying to analyze her options.

"Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? That bad things are there to teach us a lesson?" Sara backed up slightly against the desk and discreetly felt around for the syringe she'd noticed. She uncapped it slowly as he took a step toward her with each word he spoke. "Like, maybe all our problems could be solved by turning into a higher frequency." He was steps away from her now.

She saw her only chance, and she took it. She lunged toward him with the syringe but he quickly overpowered her and brought her to her knees. A sharp jagged object pushed into her neck. It was a broken piece of ceramic. She lifted her eyes when she heard the door knob rattle. Grissom appeared in the window next to the door. His skin a ghostly white.

"Do you think I'm smart?" She could feel his tears on her neck, the piece of ceramic pushing against her harder.

"Yes. Uh hu." She kept agreeing with everything he said. All the while she couldn't take her eyes off of Grissom whose face was lifeless and numb. She could see his lips moving, "Open the door." Over and over again. The nurse next to him fumbled the keys trying each of the 20 keys on her chain.

"Just open it." He pleaded. Grissom's voice was small and resigned. He could feel his heart stopping. His skin prickled as the hairs on his neck stood straight. He stared at her, her pleading eyes, her desperation. He felt sick to his stomach. "Please."

She stopped struggling and just stared into Grissom's eyes, using them to get lost in, to disassociate from the moment. Only flinching when the ceramic tool pressed harder against her. Adam Trent followed her gaze toward Grissom and snapped, "Don't look at him! You keep your eyes on the floor!" He yelled at her and she quickly obeyed.

Just then a nurse ran to the window, "No! Adam!" His head snapped up in her direction and upon seeing the nurse he became distracted enough that the tool slipped from Sara's neck. She took her opportunity and elbowed him hard in the chest. Releasing her from his psychotic hold.

Adam turned the tool on himself, digging it into his neck and spewing blood everywhere as Sara rushed out the door. She ran straight past Grissom and the useless nurse, down the long dark hallway to the gated window. She put her hands up on the gate and hung her head low. Catching her breath, regaining her equilibrium.

Grissom's ran after her. He slowed his steps as he approached her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Sara."

She turned to face him. Her neck red from where Adam's grip had been mere moments ago. He looked into her sad and defeated eyes and reached out to touch her neck. She flinched slightly as he did so. He thumbed over the irritation softly.

"We should get you some ice." He spoke softly.

"I'm fine."

He touched her neck for a moment longer before retreating his hand. He was always amazed at the strength she possessed to bounce back from the roughest of situations. A trait she surely learned in childhood, he realized.

They stood together in silence for a few minutes as she stared into the emptiness of the hallway. He waited patiently for her to regain her composure.

"After my father died, my mother came to a place like this for evaluation."

Of course she did. Grissom felt foolish for not connecting that earlier in the shift. He could have easily had someone else work with him on this to shield her from revisiting those memories.

"It looked the same. It smelled the same." She continued, "It smelled like lies."

"Are you sure you're okay?" His concern laced his words.

"Crazy people do make me feel crazy." She let out an awkward laugh.

"If you want, I can have someone else take your place."

"I appreciate that. I do. I really do. But, I kind of made a decision to move beyond that. And I really want to finish this case."

He nodded in agreement, "Okay." He spoke softly, taking note again of her neck.

Grissom had a hard time sleeping after that shift. The image of Sara being held captive like that replayed in his mind over and over again. He tried to will the thoughts away, but they continued to assault him. Her pleading eyes ingrained in his memory. The red marks on her milky white skin. The tone of her voice as she relayed more details to him about the aftermath of her father's stabbing.

He imagined her at 13 years old. A lanky and tall pre-teen. He imagined her hiding under her bed or in her closet with a flashlight, reading books as she tried to drown out the noise of her parent's fights. He imagined what the scene must have looked like from her perspective. How one night the arguing got louder and louder until suddenly, there was silence. He thought about how she'd slowly peak out from her closet and make her way to her parent's bedroom only to find her father lying limp on the floor in a red puddle. Her mother over him with a bloodied knife.

He imagined the courage it must have taken for her to slowly back out of the room undetected and call the police on her own mother. How she managed to graduate valedictorian of her High School two years early while being bounced around from one foster home to the next.

Sara's story was not one of pity or self loathing. It was not a victim's story. It was one of strength and triumph. He realized that not only was Sara incredibly gifted, intelligent, perceptive and beautiful—but she was also the strongest person he'd ever known.

He spent the whole night fighting the urge to call her. Just to hear her voice. Just to make sure she was okay.

May 2005

"Nick! Nick! Can you hear me!? Pancho! Listen to me!" Grissom was on top of the plexiglass coffin pleading for Nick to trust him. It had been a harrowing couple of shifts since Nick first went missing. The team had worked together around the clock to find him. And now, here he was, alive. But laying on an explosive.

"Put your hand on my hand!" Nick began to calm down and listen.

Over the next few moments, the cadets and team moved soil, got equipment in place, and lifted Nick out of that coffin. Medics rushed to Nick and began working on him immediately. Eventually they loaded him up into the ambulance. Catherine and Warrick jumped in with him.

Grissom stood in silence as he, Brass, Sara, Greg and Ecklie watched the ambulance speed off. A collective exhale could be felt across each of them.

"I want my guys back." Grissom said firmly to Ecklie.

They stood there a moment longer. Each washed with gratitude, knowing the night could have ended differently. Thankful Nick was found alive.

Eventually they each made their way back to their vehicles. Grissom settled into the driver seat and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. He stared out the windshield for a while, watching the PD crews disperse. Watching as one by one Greg, Brass, Ecklie and finally, Sara drove off.

It took him a while before he could gather the power to drive. He pulled his car into drive and peeled out onto the road. His mind and body were spent. He was emotionally depleted. The events had taken a heavy toll on him.

About 40 minutes later he stopped the car and looked around. He'd driven himself to Sara's apartment without realizing it. He glanced up at the building. Her light was on.

He found himself walking up the two flights of stairs to her floor. Then, he knocked on her door.

He could hear shuffling inside. And a few moments later, the door opened to reveal Sara standing there wearing a confused look and a blue cotton bathrobe. He could hear the shower water running.

"Grissom?" She took a look at him. He was warn and run down. "What, uh… what are you doing here?"

"I—I—" His eyes were small and tired as he stammered, "I don't really know."

"Come. Come in." She moved to the side and watched as he hesitantly walked in. She took in his appearance more acutely now, tired, slumped over, worry lines etched around his eyes. His hair a curly mess, scruff ragged.

"Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. She moved to the kitchen and put up a pot of tea. "Um, just give me a minute." She retreated down a hallway and when she returned she was wearing clothing and had turned the shower water off.

She handed Grissom the cup of tea, "Chamomile." She spoke softly. He was still standing where she'd left him, by the island.

"Nick's going to be okay." She worked to soothe him. "I just got off the phone with Warrick. He's stable and resting. His parents just got to the hospital."

He nodded.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" They stood about six feet apart, his eyes locked onto hers. Blue and glossy with sleep deprivation and sadness.

"Could I—" He looked down for a moment, feeling uneasy before lifting his eyes back to her, "Can I hold you?"

He could see the consent in her eyes, despite being too surprised to respond in any meaningful way. He took one easy stride toward her, placed his tea mug on the island counter and wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly he could breathe again. And only then did he realized he hadn't really breathed since the start of shift.

Her soft hair grazed his face, brushing his eye lashes. Her scent filled his senses and instantly washed calmness over him. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. The warmth of her body against his own. Her hands rested on his back as she allowed herself to rest into the embrace. She felt enveloped. Consumed by his warmth, his breath on her neck, his heartbeat in her ear.

The tea was lukewarm by the time the embrace concluded. Neither wanted to let go. It felt so right. And they'd both been wanting to touch the other in this way for years.

His hands rested on her shoulders once their bodies separated. He stared deep into her eyes, "I'm tired of being scared, Sara." He spoke, his words barely registering as a whisper.

She was unsure what to make of his statement so she waited for him to continue. She realized his hands still on her shoulders, their warmth radiating into her.

"I'm tired of hiding behind work and rules. I'm tired of being so tired."

"It's been an emotionally exhausting several hours." She offered.

He shook his head, "Several years."

"Years?" She questioned and watched as he lifted his hands from her shoulders. "I'm not following—"

"After we found Nick, it all began to hit me. All of it. And what I wanted—what I needed—was to see you. To hold you. For a long time I was too afraid to face the reality of what was between us. And now I think I'm realizing that missing out on it is much scarier."

Sara's breath caught in her throat at the direct nature of his admission.

"Sara." Her name danced off her lips, "Am I? Am I too late?"

She bit back a smile and shook her head every so lightly. "Never." She merely whispered. Their eyes were fused, finding each other in them.

"May I…?"

She nodded. Grissom slowly brought his hand up to her face, he thumbed over her cheek, her jaw, his fingers softly pushing back strands of loose hair, feeling every texture under his finger pads. He softness, her warmth, her scent, all his senses were overwhelmed with the reality.

His eyes moved from her eyes to her lips. He breathed her in and then leaned down. Touching his lips against hers with feathery lightness at first, almost hesitantly. His body tingled at the contact causing him to deepen the kiss. He felt her hands move up to his chest and shoulders, her fingers working their way behind his neck, her nails gently grazing his scalp.

The kiss grew in its intensity with each passing moment. Six years of built up sexual tension, desire and desperation culminating in the here and now. She was intoxicating.

He could barely feel the contact of his feet to the floor. His body was giving in completely. He'd never felt such an intense sweeping desire.

"Sara." He breathed, their foreheads barely apart from one another now. "My god I've wanted to do that since—"

"San Fransisco." She completed his sentence.

"You knew back then?"

"Of course." She smiled. She looked at him. Standing there awash in his vulnerability, the exhaustion seemed to have left his face. It was replaced with a glow she'd not seen in years. The urge to reengage their kiss overtook her, she couldn't fight it. Her lips touching his passionately. It was almost more than he could bare. His most vivid fantasies about this moment didn't do it an ounce of justice. She felt his hands roam, resting on the small of her back, pulling her to him. Pressing her against him. He could feel her smile against his lips as he did so and it caused a something to surge within him.

Now that he tasted what he'd been missing, it was certain there was no going back.

He had never felt so at home.